Amuse Gueule
by show.booth
Summary: A story based around the comforts of eating and the joys of cooking. Well, for Harry anyways. Rated M for later chapters. HxD
1. Chapter 1

AN-No copyright infringement is intended, nor is a profit being made.  
This story is rated M for future sex and language. Sets place after DH, but before the epilogue…kind of...I guess it ignores bits and pieces of it.  
This story includes a few of my favorite things-good food, gay men, and Harry Potter. I hope you enjoy.

And to think, it all ended because he couldn't choke down Ginny's food another night.

After yet another long day, Harry was late. Again.  
And Ginny was fuming. Again.

It was dinnertime and tensions were already pretty high before the food was even on the table.  
The day had been long and tedious; a new batch of would-be Aurors started training under him and Ginny was forever swamped in paperwork working the legal side of the twin's joke shop.  
Dinner would be choked out and hurried, no doubt.

He had apparated a block away from Grimmauld Place and walked home briskly, hunched over against the sharp wind, mouth set in a grim line.  
He had hoped he would beat Ginny home, but as he paused outside his front door he caught a whiff of charred meat and knew she was there.  
With a curse, Harry whipped open his front door. Grimacing at the haze of smoke that greeted him, Harry shed his cloak and hung it up before stomping to the kitchen.

Ginny stood before the ancient stove with her hands fisted on narrow hips, a confused look on her face.  
The lamb chops Harry had purchased just the day before sat in his prized extra –wide nonstick skillet, burnt to a crisp.  
Teeth set, he greeted Ginny before grabbing a butterbeer and settling at the oaken dinner table.

"You didn't have to cook dinner; I was kind of looking forward to cooking those chops." He said lightly, leaning back in his chair.  
Ginny scowled and poked at the offending meat. "I don't mind. Besides, I like my meat well done, not pink like you usually leave them."

Harry just nodded silently. He watched sadly as Ginny speared each chop, shaking them loose on to prepared plates.  
Turning towards Harry, she plastered a smile on her flushed face and set the plate before him. "Eat up!"

He had planned a nice risotto with fresh peas, maybe a little mushroom and garlic, to go along with the meat. A glass or two of unpronounceable wine, maybe some candlelight to make it really special. For dessert, a simple fruit plate-maybe Ginny would share it with him under the stars like days past.

Instead, his dinner sat on his plate like a drab palette, a depressing array of blackened meat, rolls, and limp asparagus.  
He could feel Ginny's eyes boring into the top of his head as he studied his food. "Something wrong?" She finally asked voice tight with accusations.

Fist tight around his drink, Harry met her eyes. "You knew I wanted to cook these special for us."  
Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically and picked up her knife and fork. "Honestly Harry, its just meat."  
Harry nodded his head slowly. "Just meat I bought to cook a nice meal for us. Just the meat I had my butcher cut just so because I know you don't like a lot of fat. But yeah, it's just the meat I had plans for."

Ginny scoffed and slapped her utensils back down. "My god, if this is the way you're going to act every damn time _I try _to do something nice for you then this will be the last time it happens!"  
Leaning back in his chair, Harry studied her as he rolled his bottle of butterbeer between his palms. "I wouldn't have minded you cooking them, even if you murder every piece of meat you touch, if you didn't do it just for spite."

Ginny all but growed and crossed her lanky arms over her chest. "For spite, really Harry? If you want to do things special for me, why not take me out every now and then? All we do is this!" She gestured to them sitting at the table. "And I'm tired of it! Take me dancing, take me to a show, take me _out _Harry!"

Wearily, Harry sat his now warm bottle of butterbeer down on the table. It was an argument they have had before, and often.  
Ginny was a social being; she loved throwing herself into a crowd and being seen. Being seen with Harry in her clutches was all the better.

Harry was the opposite, a fault that Ginny couldn't ever seem to accept. On days when he wasn't working, Harry liked to spend his time a little quieter.  
He would browse the local markets, wizarding and muggle alike, for hours on end. After buying way too much food, he would usually end up cooking it all and throwing an impromptu party of sorts.  
The gatherings have always been a highlight for Harry, a time to relax and catch up with his friends and family was always welcome. In the beginning, Ginny seemed to enjoy their parties as well. When things slowed down, she would be the one to crank up the music and open another bottle and get things started again.

After a while, Ginny started to grow bored with his parties. Harry suspected it was just too normal for her, to have a big meal with the same old people. So then she would turn to him for 'outside entertainment'.  
He would relent and they would go out to the cinema, maybe grab a meal and some drinks at some place 'not to weird', and Ginny would be sated for the week.

But now work for Harry was at its busiest time of the year, and Ginny's girlfriends were busy with their families and kids.  
So Ginny was antsy to get out of the house, and all to keen to keep letting Harry know.

"We went out last weekend!" Harry groaned. They went dancing, or Ginny danced circles around him while he swayed stiffly.  
Pushing away from the table, Harry stood and tossed his bottle in the garbage. He plucked up his skillet and began to gently scrub off the burnt mess. "Maybe this Sunday we can go for breakfast at that new bistro I told you about?" he asked, not turning away from the sink.

Cursing, Ginny dumped the remains of her dinner into the bin and chunked the dirtied plate onto the counter. "No! No more half-assed breakfast dates. Would it kill you to put a little effort into spending time with me?"

After a quick drying spell, Harry studied the pan thoroughly before slipping it back onto its rack about the stove. "Let me get this straight. You want to go out on dates with me, but you shoot down every suggestion I give and offer none of your own. So what am I supposed to do here Ginny?"

"Try harder! It's like you have just, totally checked out Harry." Ginny complained.  
Harry turned and faced Ginny, resting his hip on the stove. "Maybe you're right."

Ginny blinked in surprise. "So it's that easy for you to just, throw away all the years we've been together?"  
He thought for a minute before answering. "Easy? No, I wouldn't say that Ginny. We've been together since Hogwarts, since the War.", he said, voice growing soft that the wave of memories that washed over him.

The nightmares.  
How his dreams made every battle, every person who passed, haunt him for nearly a year after he killed Riddle.  
Ginny was there, moping his brow and clutching his hand at 4am.  
The crushing guilt.  
It took him a full three months to go back to the Burrow. To risk seeing a look of accusation in Molly's eye would have kept him away forever if Ginny didn't drag him over there.  
Yes, during the aftermath of the War, Ginny was firmly by his side and he would be forever grateful.

"But.", Harry started again. "Nearly a decade has passed since those times, and I'm doing pretty well, all things considered. And that seems to the problem. Since you don't have to coddle me anymore, you have grown bored with me now that I've regrown my backbone."

Ginny sputtered, but Harry cut her off with a raised hand. "I've got a successful job, maybe a little too successful. I've got great friends, a few coins in my vault, and my own house. I'm not a project anymore, Ginny. I'm a grown man standing on his two feet, something I thought you wanted."

Ginny remained silent, watching as Harry continued to tidy the kitchen. She spoke at last, voice weak. "I'm sorry you feel this way Harry. I wish you would have told me this sooner. I thought I was a good companion for you, a good match. I always pictured us together for-"

Harry whirled around to face her, eyes bright with anger. "Don't you dare pull that 'poor innocent Ginny' act on me! Together forever huh? Where was that attitude when I _proposed _to you? "  
Ginny took a step back as the lights dimmed ominously around them. Harry was slow to anger these days, but when he did his magic sharpened to a point and filled a room with its power.  
Taking a breath, Harry smiled bitterly at Ginny. "Exciting enough for you?"

Not waiting for a response, he marched past her and went into the front room. Ginny hurried behind, heels clacking loudly on the floor. "Where are you going?" she demanded, hands on hips.

Harry stood by the front door tugging on his worn leather jacket. "I'm going to get a fucking medium-rare lamb chop. When I get back home, I would appreciate if my kitchen was clean and you were gone."  
Harry opened the door and walked out into the night, closing the door quietly on Ginny's screaming.

As he walked around the corner, Harry risked a grin. Maybe it seemed sudden, but Ginny knew as well as he did that their relationship has been over since she turned down his proposal months before.

The smiled dropped off his face as he remembered the morning he had popped the question.  
It was January 2nd, the day after Harry's annual New Year's Eve bash. After a few rounds of some potent Headache Draughts, they returned to bed for a safe breakfast of dry toast and strong coffee.

Ginny was pressed against his side, flicking lazily through the pictures she had taken the night before. She laughed at their friends, pointing out glazed eyes and crazy hairdos.  
Dropping his toast onto the breakfast tray, Harry pulled the pictures out of Ginny's hand and tossed them aside. Ignoring her complaints, he took her hand in his own. "Let's get married." He blurted out.  
No, it wasn't perfect, but Harry was happy and wanted that moment to last.

Ginny ripped her hand away from his as if he were on fire. "Marriage? So soon?"  
Warning bells went off in his head then, but he foolishly ignored them. He startled her was all, in a moment her arms would be wrapped around his neck and Ginny would be a step closer to becoming Mrs. Harry Potter.

But instead she jumped out of the bed and the excuses began to flow.  
Harry scowled, remembering the back and forth between them that lasted days, weeks.  
About a month after he had first asked, Ginny 'relented' and said she would "think about it".

By then, Harry knew it was over, but the hope for a happily ever after kept him hanging on...until the want for a nice piece of meat threw him over the edge, apparently.

With a shrug, Harry apparated to the front door of one his favorite restaurants.

He had returned that night comfortably drunk and painfully full to a quiet house.  
He immediately made his way to his kitchen to check out the damage. When angered, Ginny tented to be loose with the destructive curses.

Entering the kitchen, Harry winced at the bright lights that sprung to life at his presence.  
The stove was bare, as was the sink. Releasing a sigh, Harry turned to leave the room when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.  
In the middle of his beautiful farmhouse table was a mess of twisted metal and splintered wood.  
With dreadful curiosity, Harry moved closer to examine the object.

Only when he grabbed hold of a chunk of wood did it click- His pan.  
He chuckled lowly and shook his head, banishing the mangled skillet away with regret.

Swiping a hand over his face, Harry made his way upstairs to his bedroom. It hit him as got into his empty bed that he would mourn the loss of his favorite skillet longer than the loss of his relationship with Ginny.

The next day Harry woke late and rose later still, spending a good deal of the morning lounging in his bed. It wasn't until the want of food and tea became too hard to ignore did he pry himself out of bed and make his way downstairs.

An owl's peck on the window distracted him momentarily, but seeing that it was The Quibbler being delivered, he let his annoyance evaporate. Thanks to Luna he was the lucky recipient of a free lifetime subscription.  
Slipping his magazine under his robed arm, Harry padded over to explore his fridge.

He didn't get far though, as the shelves held nothing but cold air. All food was gone, vanished by the flick of a certain redhead's wand. Ripping open the freezer door, Harry groaned. Even the ice bin was bare.

Slapping down his Quibbler, he hurried to his pantry.  
The small space hadn't been forgotten either. The long wooden shelves were freed from their burden of pastas, the tins of vegetables, the preserves Molly sent over by the dozens.

As he surveyed the damage, a grim thought hit him. "Oh no.", Harry whispered aloud.  
"Oh no oh no oh no.", Harry chanted, running back to the front hall. Near the base of the stairs was a tiny nook once used as a cloakroom. Having only three cloaks to his name and dozens of bottles of wine, Harry turned the space into a makeshift wine cellar, with the help of a few spells, of course.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door a crack and peeked inside. "Oh thank God.", Harry sighed.  
All the bottles were in place, lying smugly side by side on their racks.

With a thought, he crouched down and grabbed a bottle off the last shelf. He popped the cork with a wave of his wand, and took a long swallow straight from the cool bottle.  
Fruit and sugar sweetness washed down his throat, drying his throat out more than anything else.  
It was Ginny's favorite, in the year after the War ended.

Sitting the bottle on the floor, Harry rose and left to get dressed. He had a lot of shopping to do.


	2. Chapter 2

AN-No copyright infringement is intended, nor is a profit being made. This story is rated M for future sex and language.  
I'm churning this story out pretty fast, so be sure to check back for updates often!

There was just something special about strolling through a wizarding market that really made grocery shopping for Harry.  
The idea was the same as its Muggle equivalent of course, but anything with a touch of magic was always heightened in Harry's opinion.

After visiting his butcher and ordering a variety of different cuts of meat, he Apparrated over to market just a few blocks away from busy Diagon Alley.  
Harry strolled through the aisles happily, basket hanging from the crook of his arm.  
One of the many magical improvements was the shopping carts and baskets.

No more cramming items into overflowing baskets, no more maneuvering around carts left in the middle of the aisle. Even though he had done quite a lot of shopping, the basket only showed a few items.  
The basket held a simple reduction charm on its contents and gave its user a host of information with the right number of taps of a wand.

Tossing a wedge of brie in the bewitched basket, Harry skipped over to the snack aisle. Bypassing an alarming array of smoking crackers and leaping crisps, he picked up two bags pretzels and turned around to find one Draco Malfoy studying a package of Oreos intensely a few feet away.  
Harry grinned. This promised to be interesting.

He inched closer, tapping his chin as if studying the wall of snacks just as closely, all the while watching Malfoy out of the corner of his eye.  
He looked good, Harry had to admit.

His slim frame was still clad for work, dark robes and a stiff collared white shirt. Draco's grey eyes were narrowed, searching for some hidden piece of information on the cookie package.  
A full minute passed and Draco had yet to speak; Harry was let down by how anticlimactic it all was. Just as Harry opened his mouth to chide Malfoy's choice, the blonde spoke.

"Do they make these with peanut butter crème?"  
Harry blinked in surprise. No snide comment? No embarrassment over shopping for Muggle cookies?  
"Er. I don't think they do. The mint ones are pretty good though."

Draco pursed his lips and with a final glance, slipped the package into his basket. "I guess original will do."  
Harry furrowed his brow. "Well it's original for a reason."  
Draco nodded. "I suppose I can just keep spreading peanut butter on them."

Utterly confused, Harry nabbed a package of the mint crèmes and turned to leave. "That should work. Happy shopping Malfoy."  
He left with a smile on his face. Malfoy buying Oreos in broad daylight was defiantly getting flagged as a proper cocktail party story.

The rest of his shopping trip went uneventfully and it was only when he hit the checkout line did he remember breakfast cereal.  
Cursing mildly, Harry left his place in line and hurried over to the cereal aisle.

There was Draco, a full two aisle over from where Harry had left him thirty minutes before.  
Instead of Oreos, he held a brightly colored box with roaming cartoon animals on it.  
"I don't think that's edible. " Harry called out, searching for his own brand.  
Malfoy scowled- at least Harry knew he wasn't ill after all. "It's perfectly edible!" he claimed, though he did give the ingredients a once over. "See! 'Corn Byproduct'!"

Harry grimaced and took the box out of Draco's pale hands. "I can't in all good consciousness let you eat sugar-coated corn waste." Harry grabbed a bland colored box off the shelf. "Here, get this. It's what I'm getting so it's amazing."  
Malfoy looked repulsed and snatched back his box of Crawlin' Crunchies, clutching them protectively to his chest. "Bran? Are you serious Potter?"

Embarrassed, Harry ruffled his hair. "Ok, maybe they aren't _too_ amazing, but it's good for you! Way better than that crap you're nursing."  
Draco dropped the box away from his chest and into his basket. "I don't eat crap _all_ the time, just for breakfast."

Harry didn't look convinced. Wordlessly, he tapped Draco's basket twice and snatched the receipt that popped out.  
"Oh man are you a liar!" Harry laughed gleefully. "There isn't a fruit or vegetable on here! What in the hell is a 'DinnerQuik' and why do you have ten of them?"

Angry now, Draco stood straighter and jabbed the air with his upturned nose. "I work long hours and don't always have the luxury of a gourmet meal at the end of the day. And I have you know DinnerQuiks are delicious instameals that do include a fruit or vegetable in each package!"

Trying to smother his grin, Harry nodded his head solemnly. "I stand,er, corrected? What are you, a spokesman for the things?" He still refused to think of the 'instameals' as food.  
Draco's pride wilted just a bit. "Not a spokesman, no, though I do happen to have some money tied into the product."

That got it for Harry. He burst out laughing, tears coming to his bright eyes.  
"They are delicious!" Draco repeated. Grabbing his wand, Harry's laughter died in his throat, but Draco ignored him and tapped Harry's basket.  
"Let's see what you eat, Mr. Pretentious!"

Chuckling again, Harry tried to wrap his mind around the fact that _Malfoy_ just called him pretentious.  
"Oh man are you _old_." Draco sneered, mocking Harry's earlier expression. "Wheat, bran, organic, free-ranged. Who cares! The only good food in there are the Oreos and that's saying something considering they are mint."

"Hey. I work hard and at the end of the day I want a decent meal!" Harry defended. He didn't tell Draco that the Oreos weren't for him, but for when the very pregnant Hermione came over to visit.

"DinnerQuiks are very…decent! Try one, or two, you'll find that they are a more than…decent substitute for your usual dinner." Draco stuttered lamely.  
"Nice sales pitch there Malfoy. "Harry quipped "But I'm still not trying those horrid microwave dinners."

Draco raised a pale eyebrow. "Microwaves? No no, there isn't much science behind the preparation of the meals. You simply add a few drops of water and follow the spelling instructions on the package."  
"So what's the motto? 'So easy a Squib can nearly do it'?"  
Draco frowned, but the laughter in his eyes gave away his amusement. "Nothing that crude I assume. How about I buy you one, a taste tester."

Now it was time for Harry's eyebrow to dart up. "You want to buy me dinner?"  
"In a sense, yes." Draco said casually, smile in place.  
Harry considered the red flags that would pop up if this was their schooldays and squashed them. Dwelling on the past didn't go with his new, Ginny-free life.  
Besides, he told himself,what harm would it do to have Malfoy buy him one of the crappy dinners he kept on about?  
"Ok then." Harry smiled slowly. He waited a beat before turning around to leave. "Yeah, ok then. Just…owl me."  
As he stumbled away, Draco just smiled. Not a salesman indeed.

Two days had passed before Malfoy finally owled Harry.  
Harry was just walking through the scarred front door of Grimmauld Place when an unfamiliar speckled ball of owl landed on his shoulder. "Bloody hell!" Harry yelped, wobbling slightly over the owls weight.

Shutting the door behind him, Harry straightened with relief when the fat owl dropped onto a near-by chair.  
Rubbing his shoulder, Harry took the offered letter. "How do you fly?" he wondered. The owl ignored him, picking at its feathers instead.

Toeing off his shoes, Harry slipped his finger under the fussy wax seal on the letter. "And I'm pretentious." He muttered to himself.  
_Potter,  
A veritable banquet awaits you at 7o'clock this evening- Floo address follows._

Harry snorted at the stuffy invite; he had a hunch that Malfoy turned up the snobbery a few notches just for him.

After tossing the owl a treat, Harry watched with amusement as it barreled through the sky. Apparently he would have to teach Malfoy the proper way to feed his owl too.

With a glance at his battered watch, Harry decided a shower was in order before his bizarre feast with Malfoy.

He hated to Floo, hated to Floo even more into an unknown location. Later, when Harry stepped out of the fireplace and into Draco's living room it was with a with a scowl.  
"Next time I'm Apparrating." he grumbled in greeting. "I brought wine. I'm not too keen on drinking whatever sugared syrup you might offer."

"Good, save more for me." Draco remarked, but took the offered bottle.  
He was dressed more casually in dark denims and a smug fitting sage colored shirt.  
His hair, still wet from a previous shower, fell into his eyes just so.  
As Draco padded off to the kitchen, Harry was oddly tickled to see he was wearing striped socks.

Dusting off his own shirt, Harry surveyed the large room around him.  
Its furnishings were sparse, but stylist. Two large high-backed navy sofas sat around the fireplace, a squat coffee table of some dark wood between them held a large book that had dragons on the cover.

Harry roamed the room freely, his shoes clicking on the polished hardwood floor. There was only one large painting on the pale walls, a heavily framed abstract of creamy yellows and bright reds.  
A spiral staircase was tucked in the corner, a stone's throw from the front door.

He glanced back at Malfoy, who was pouring the wine in the open kitchen. "Nice place."  
Malfoy smiled and handed Harry a glass of wine. "It is isn't it?"

Harry laughed and sat down at the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. "Humble as always. Lived here long?"  
The easiness of the conversation surprised Harry. There were awkward spots when they drifted to topics that were a little sore, but they quickly rebounded to something safer.

Over the wine, Harry learned more about Draco faster than all of his Hogwarts days combined.  
Draco lived in the highly exclusive Wizarding apartments, _Willows Wind _for going on five years.  
He was some sort of free-lanced investor, jumping from big business to big business making them richer as he went. Sometimes he would dabble in the financial world himself, which explained the DinnerQuiks.  
No relationship, though Harry figured as much as he was currently having dinner with him on a Friday night.

Harry also filled in some of the spaces in his own life-his abrupt end to his relationship to Ginny, they laughed over the loss of his groceries, and Draco was intrigued at the design details of his wine cellar.  
He expressed how his job was almost too much to handle yet monotonous at the same time.

He had a feeling they would have kept talking if it wasn't for the loud noises Harry's stomach started making. "How bout you whip us up some of those meals you keep on about?"  
"Hungry enough to try one huh?" Draco mocked. He left his seat by Harry and presented him the meals with a flourish. "Tonight, we will be dining on my personal favorite-spaghetti Bolognese, some lovely bread, and for dessert- pears."

Harry stared blankly at the packages of food for a moment then laughed. Draco slapped the boxes down on the counter and scowled. "Give them a chance Potter!"  
Harry shook his head. "I will I will! It's just kinda ironic is all." At Draco's confused look, Harry explained. "When I was on the run with Hermione, that was our first real meal. She lifted a few tins from a grocery store. "

Draco laughed now and started preparing the meals. Grabbing plates from the cabinet, he portioned out the food. "So where was Weasley? You said when you and Hermione were on the run." Handing Harry his plate, Draco returned to his bar stool.

Stalling, Harry took a bite of the warm twist of bread. It wasn't bad, but then again Harry had practically lived off stale bread at the Dursley's.  
"Ron and I had a big fight and he left. Though he came back soon enough and saved my bloody life!" Harry hastily explained.

Draco twirled his pasta around his fork and took a small bite. "Settle down Potter. Did I say anything against Ginger? How did he save your life though?"  
Harry mirrored Draco and sampled the pasta. It was thick as worms and chewy as rubber, the sauce, though thin wasn't half-bad surprisingly. "Well, I jumped into a frozen lake, couldn't get out, and Ron saved me.", he simplified.

Laying down his fork, Draco pushed back his plate and propped his elbow on the counter. "Oh. Of course." He said, chin in hand.  
With a huff, Harry took another sip of wine before launching into the full story of that night. Draco listened intently, face wiped blank, though his eyes flashed with emotion when the necklace was mentioned.

When he finished, their plates where empty as was the bottle of wine.  
"Hell of a story there Potter." Draco stated, running his finger along the rim of his wineglass. He couldn't help but wonder what he was doing at the same time Harry was out destroying dark artifacts. More than likely he was hiding out from Voldemort in his room or the Manor's library.

Harry took their plates and dropped them in the empty sink, taking a second to appreciate what was sure to be Draco's seldom used kitchen. "You have a pasta spigot and you eat that mess?" he exclaimed, gesturing to the fixture.  
"I thought that was just a second faucet. Huh." Draco mumbled, unimpressed.  
"Unbelievable!" Harry said, more than a little jealous. He walked lazily around the kitchen as he did the living room, opening cabinets here and there.

Draco watched, amused, as Harry complained about his 'astonishing lack of spices' or how the set of pots his Mother gave him was just 'sheer wasteful'.  
Draining his glass, Draco moved it to the sink with a flick of his wand. "I use the flat one sometimes, and the kettle."  
Leaning his back against the granite countertop, Harry laughed at Draco's rueful smile. "Shameful."

As the night had quickly passed, Harry decided it was time to Floo back home. The men slowly made their way to Draco's living room, stopping in front of the fireplace.  
"It's been fun Malfoy, I'm kinda surprised." Harry admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets.  
Draco rolled grey eyes. "It was the DinnerQuiks wasn't it? Remarkably delicious? I wonder if that's the motto after all…"  
"Nope not at all. In fact, I was wondering if maybe I could make you a decent meal at my place. Say Sunday evening?" Harry asked, surprising even himself.

Draco blinked then smiled that smug smile of his. "If you think you can cook something that bypasses the best artificial flavors and meats that both Wizards and Muggles can offer, you're wrong. But. I'm willing to give it a try."  
"Prepare to be proved wrong Malfoy. See you Sunday, don't bring anything."  
Taking a handful of Floo powder, Harry left to the sounds of Draco's snort.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Sunday morning and Harry was in a panic.  
What on Earth was he thinking, cooking dinner for bloody Draco Malfoy?

Cursing, he tossed aside the cookbook he was flipping through and turned to review the contents of his fridge again.

Did Draco eat veal, he wondered. Harry had a hard time thinking he would be morally opposed to eating baby cows.  
Maybe he should go simpler, maybe roast a chicken? There is always pasta again; at least Harry knew he liked that.  
Groaning, he closed the fridge and leaned against the door, Summoning his glass of wine carefully.

It was odd, him not knowing what to make for a simple dinner for two. He planned menus in his head at work over paperwork, in the shower, while eating a different dinner, all the time.  
It was off-putting, and there was nothing Harry hated more than being unsure of himself.

Sighing, he turned to go scowl at his panty when he heard to Floo come to life. "Harry? It's me, I'm coming through."  
"I'm in the pantry." Harry called out, picking up a red potato.  
"Oh good, I'm ravenous!" Hermione said, leaning against the doorframe.  
"Potato?" Harry asked, offering the spud. He smiled at the typical Hermione response of an eye roll and a shake of the head. "Ok ok, give me a minute and I'll make you some brunch."

"Good! Eating for two you know." Hermione said brightly, turning back to the kitchen. Putting on the kettle, she made herself comfortable at the kitchen table, pulling _The Prophet_ from her cloak.  
Arms laden with food, Harry dumped the load on the counter. "How you feel today?"  
"Not counting the swollen feet, I'm fantastic. Baby is well, busy as always." Hermione swooned, patting her round stomach. "Three more months!"

"Well pregnancy agrees with you.". Harry said warmly.

And it did.  
Hermione really did have a lovely warm glow about her, all smiles and rosy cheeked. And her perfect little mound of belly was much cooed and fawned over by all the men in her life, seeing her brought joy into any room.

Harry shared her smiled as he started pasta to boil and began halving cherry tomatoes. He listened with a half ear as Hermione talked on about the crib Molly bought over, about the Quidditch mobile Ron insisted on.  
He chopped parsley, cut oozing mozzarella, a head of garlic, all the while nodding his agreement that the name 'Rosie' was too cutesy.  
Pasta nearly done, he added it to his ready pan with a splash of the cooking water and his prepped ingredients.

"So what are you doing tonight? Molly invited all of us over to the Burrow, she's making a roast. "  
"_Accio_ platter." Harry murmured, and plated the nest of pasta deftly. He set the steaming dish in front of Hermione, turning back to grab plates and some fresh parmesan.  
"There you go, eat up!" Harry presented, taking a seat.

Gushing, Hermione dug in, already reaching for the extra cheese. "So good Harry, thanks."  
Making his own plate, Harry speared a cherry tomato and popped it into his mouth. "No problem really. It's very simple."  
Topping off her plate, Hermione shook her head. "Tell that to the woman whose crowning culinary achievement is a bacon sandwich."  
Cutting into a ball of mozzarella, she looked concerned for a moment. "How am I ever going to feed a child? I have enough trouble keeping Ron and I alive."

Harry patted her shoulder, getting up for more wine. "No worries, just more dinners at Uncle Harry's will be in order."  
Nodding her agreement, Hermione took the mug of tea Harry brought her. "So, dinner at Molly's?"

"I, ah, can't." Harry said, not meeting Hermione eyes.  
"Oh, because of Ginny? But she isn't going to be there, she's in London with Katie Bell!"  
Harry picked out a noodle and ate it before answering. "No, not because of Ginny. I have plans."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and tried to cross her legs. "Bugger it." She muttered, giving up.  
"Plans? What kind of plans? If you are ditching us to go grocery shopping or something then I'm telling Molly."  
Harry frowned, was his life really that small? He shook his head.  
"No grocery shopping, thank you. I'm…having company tonight. For dinner."

Hermione gaped. "A date? With who?"  
Fighting back his blush, Harry took a drink of wine to clear his throat. "Not a date, just, dinner."  
Hermione didn't look convinced. "Really Harry, it's a little soon after your breakup…"  
Groaning, Harry flicked his wand to wrap up the leftover pasta. "It's not a date." He repeated.  
"Ok then. Just dinner. With who?"

"Malfoy." Harry said, staring straight at Hermione.  
He didn't know exactly why, but he was mentally daring her to object.  
Leaning back in her chair, Hermione took a minute to digest the news before speaking. "Draco Malfoy?"  
Restless, Harry started the washing-up by hand. "Yes Draco Malfoy. We, er, meet up at the grocery store the other day and had dinner at his place Friday."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "You've already had…a dinner?"  
Drying his hands, Harry nodded. "Yes, it was nice…We talked."  
"About what?" she asked, still surprised.  
Harry shrugged. "Work. Relationships. Food. It wasn't anything deep and meaningful, just, everyday stuff without animosity."  
Hermione laughed in disbelief. "Suddenly after all these years, after all the bad history between you two, you guys are having dinner?"  
"I know it's crazy, but I'm going with the flow of things. "

"Huh." Taking her leftovers, Hermione pecked him on the cheek. "Ok love, stay safe. I have got to get a move on."  
"I always do. Give my best to Molly and the other." Harry said, patting her belly fondly. "I'm having you and Ron over for dinner this week so wear stretchy pants."  
Hermione laughed. "As if I can fit into anything different."

Halfway to the Floo, she turned around and shot Harry an inquisitive look. "So what are you making for him?"  
Harry admitted he didn't have a clue.

"Shepherd's Pie. Your shepherd's pie is so comforting, it's bound to crack away the rest of that ice."

Following Hermione's advice, hours later Harry was taking a large pan of shepherd's pie out of the oven.  
It was rich with a minced beef and veal mix, laced with roasted garlic and topped with whipped red-skinned potatoes.  
He placed it on his table with a mild warming charm and turned his attention towards the carrots.  
After spelling the peels off, Harry left them to steam while he tidied up the kitchen.

He was just banishing away a heap of potato peels when the Floo roared to life again.  
"I do admit, whatever it is you're cooking smells a lot better than mine."  
Harry smiled and poured another glass of wine. "That's because it is."

Draco walked into the kitchen with a smirk in place, hand reaching out for the offered glass of wine.  
His hair was loose again, something Harry thought softened him nicely. Draco's grey eyes were light, full of humor as they searched Harry's kitchen. Subtlety, he stood a little straighter and let Harry search him.

Harry glanced down and was disappointed that he still wore shoes, sturdy square-toed boots. He was curious to see if all of his socks were striped.  
His pants were dark again, hugging his legs and falling over his boots. Harry caught a flash of a silver belt buckle when Draco stretched for the glass. His shirt was a snowy V-neck, a pale swatch of skin peeking through, and when he shifted, double thin ridges of collarbones.

Harry took a drink of wine. And another.

Draco was talking, something about Grimmauld Place years ago when he had visited. He was laughing over the 'ghastly portrait' that once hung in the hallway 'though she always complimented my hair'.  
Nodding vaguely, Harry turned back to the stove to drain and prepare the carrots. When he turned to set the steaming bowl down on the table, Draco was rounding the corner.

"This house is madness."  
"It's…got history." Harry said. He nodded to the bottle of wine and took his seat at the table.  
"Weird, dark, dusty history." Draco corrected. He refilled their glasses before taking a seat to Harry's left.  
Harry filled a plate and handed it over to Draco. "Eat and tell me how good it is."

Draco obliged, tasting a tiny forkful of the pie. He chewed thoroughly, forehead wrinkled in concentration. "It's quite good." Draco announced finally.  
Harry scoffed and took a huge bite himself. "Thanks, it was the first dish I really mastered."  
Draco ate quickly, but always with the impeccable manners he was raised with.

He asked questions just to hear Harry talk- how long did he cook the pie, what was that he topped the carrots with.  
There was a light in Harry's eyes when he described whipping potatoes, sautéing garlic that Draco didn't understand, but enjoyed all the same.  
Wiping his mouth, Draco laid his fork down on his empty plate. "When did you learn to cook so well?"

"I had to cook for the Dur- the Muggles I lived with before so I guess I learned the bare-bones from that. It's was a nice escape, really the only time I had without much conflict. They were probably worried I would poison their food or something."  
Draco laughed. "It's always prudent to be nice to one's chef. "

"You should keep that mentality. I missed a perfectly good roast to cook for you tonight." Harry said.  
Helping himself, Draco rose to start the makings of tea. "Is that typical Sunday fare for you? Sunday roast at the Weasley's house?"  
"Was. Guess still is, but since The Breakup I've opted out. "Harry admitted, rising to help Draco out.

Harry's kitchen was sparkling, though cramped. In Harry's haste to help Draco find the teabags, they collided.  
Harry froze, trapping the box of teabags between them.

Above him, Draco fought back a smile.  
He knew he should step away, act like the perfect gentlemen he could be. But Harry looked so torn, confused, and a bit like he wanted to push Draco against the sink and shag him into next week that Draco didn't move a single muscle.  
Harry could feel Draco's warm breath on his forehead, could smell him.  
Sandalwood. Mint. Shoe polish. A whiff of their meal. Intoxicating.

His grip on the tea box loosened a bit. What if he dropped it altogether…? Heartbeat quickening, Harry risked a glance into Draco's eyes.  
And what he saw was infuriating.

The bastard thought this was funny! Draco's eyes were almost dancing with humor, humor at his expense!  
Harry took a step back and slapped the box down on the counter. "Just what is your game here Draco?"  
Laughing now, Draco pressed his hand against his chest in mock-innocence. "Game? Whatever do you mean _Harry? _I've only came here for dinner, though a crummy attempt at a grope is welcome too."

"I didn't grope you! I just, kind of ran into you." Harry spat. He stabbed the teabags into their mugs, shooting a jet of hot water into the cups with his wand.  
"I'm not complaining! Next time lose the box though, you missed all my best bits." Draco joked, handing Harry a spoon.  
Harry snatched the spoon and started ladling sugar into the tea. "Best bits? Really. Are you sure it wasn't _you _after _my _bits?"  
The smile slid off Draco's face. "When I go after you, you'll know." He said, voice low.

Harry faulted, spoon clanging loudly on the mug's side. "When."  
Draco furrowed his brow, bringing the overly sweetened tea to his lips. "Pardon?"  
"You said when you go after me. When, not if." Harry repeated. He took his own mug and tried to mimic Draco's calmness, but instead he ended up scalding his tongue.

Draco licked his lips, making sure Harry watched the path his tongue made. "Very good Potter. That is what I said."  
The back of his neck felt hot, sweat starting to creep down his collar, but Harry tried to keep the illusion of control about him. He leaned against the kitchen island, hip banging into the cabinet knob. He shot Draco a warning glare, but the blonde smartly feigned interest in the contents of his tea mug.

"So, you _are_ planning to…I mean, you want something to come of…" Harry stammered.  
Finishing his tea, Draco stretched across Harry to put his cup in the sink. He turned his head slightly, lips inches away from the shell of Harry's ear. Draco smiled at the blush that swept across Harry's cheekbones, the way he stood up straighter.  
"A Malfoy is always planning Potter." Draco murmured confidently.

Harry refused to meet Draco eye once he straightened, instead choosing to focus on the pantry doorway. "Always planning, but what does all that planning get you?"  
Draco simply shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry Potter, it all works out in the end."

"You're infuriating." Harry said, putting aside his tea for wine. He needed something with a bit more bite to calm his nerves.  
"Infuriatingly right?" Draco asked cheekily. He was slipping on his cloak now, Harry having followed him into the living room.  
"I think I can settle with just infuriating." Harry said.  
His cheeks were still flushed, Draco noted smugly.  
When he didn't think Draco was looking, Harry blotted the sweat off his forehead.

"Owl me." Draco demanded, seconds before he Flooed off.  
He left Harry standing in his living room, where he sat for a good portion of the night, nursing his wine and fighting with his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Much to his dismay, Harry was back in St. Mungo's.

He was at work, last hour of course, where he was overseeing his batch of trainees practicing a modified Stunning spell on animated dummies.  
And of course, the dummy Kyle Ozwood was assigned to strayed a bit too close to where Harry was barking orders.

But at least they knew now the spell would bypass a shield charm.  
And the 'burning sensation' the spell should have caused was actually a 'set the run-away's legs on fire' sensation.  
So after being doused by eleven different jets of water, and one jet of mud thanks to the cloudy-minded Zoe Rawlings, he was Apparated to the hospital before he could object.

Rules they said, regulations to follow.  
Harry suspected they just wanted to go home early.

Grumbling, he pulled the scratchy blanket up to his chin.  
His legs were heavily bandaged and numb as the dead's, so he was confined to the lumpy bed and the swatch of fabric.  
He hated St. Mungo's , hated the smell of blood and pine cleaner that lingered in the halls, hated the fact that a few floors above him Neville's parents laid lame still.

Just as his anger was being to rise, Hermione banged through the door. "Why in the hell do I have to find out from my _gynecologist_ that my oldest friend in the world is in the hospital?" she demanded.  
Not waiting for an answer, she pounded her way to Harry's bed, belly leading the way. Ignoring Harry's complaints, she snatched the blanket off his legs to study the bandages.

"Here I am, pulling my huge knickers up from around my ankles when my lovely doctor tells me I'm free to go up and visit my mate. So I rush around, trying to find out which floor you were on, and yes I knew it had to be so shut it, and send a bloody Patronus to Ron since the git can't figure out a cell phone. Then I _spot_ my lovely husband trying to sneak out and not tell me you were here!"  
Harry winced and tried to bury himself deeper into the pillow.

"My emergency contact is Ron, I haven't updated it since you two got married! If you have to be mad at someone, it's him."  
With a huff, Hermione crossed her arms and sat down in the armchair near the bed.  
"Two of the most important men in my life, not letting me know when someone is in the hospital."  
She lectured Harry under her breath for a few more minutes, before Harry had no choice but to use his current distraction technique- baby names.

"How about Ashley?"  
Hermione scoffed. "Really Harry, do you have an original bone in your body?"  
"Helen?"  
"Not bad, sounds smart. I'll have to remember that one."  
It continued for a few minutes, before Hermione remembered life outside of Harry and had to go.

She left Harry with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back tomorrow.  
Harry just sighed and closed his eyes, knowing better than to argue. He was just starting to entertain the idea of sleep when the smell of tomato soup wafted in and made his stomach come to life with hunger pains.

But there was a distinct smell of tea and money that he knew clung to one practicality arrogant Slytherin that made his stomach lurch for completely different reasons.  
On the other side of his eyelids, Draco waited a beat, watching as Harry's nose began to twitch. He opened the styrofoam cup and after fishing a spoon off of Harry's untouched dinner tray took a small bite.

"You better get up, this is way too healthy for me to eat all of it."  
Harry smiled and obeyed, though he told himself it was purely from hunger.

Draco was dressed warmly in a dove grey peacoat and woolen slacks, his hair tucked neatly behind pink-tipped ears. His cheeks were flushed pink too, making him seem a bit friendlier. Inviting.

"It's from Eddie's." Draco started, answering Harry's unasked question.  
He picked up a bowl off the tray and gingerly sniffed the contents. "What is this, wash water?"  
After banishing away the broth and cleaning the bowl, Draco split the soup between them.

"Eat, tell me how good my takeaway prowess are." He said, sitting down in the vacant armchair.  
The soup was comforting- light and flavorful, just what Harry needed. Warmth spread through his battered body, making him sigh in content. He thanked Draco, and slipped his dirtied bowl onto the tiny nightstand.

"How did you find out I was in the hospital?" Harry asked, shifting to face the blond.  
"I had some work to tend to across the street. I was standing in line outside the diner afterwards when I caught wind that 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' was next door, burnt to a crisp"

Harry grunted at the title. "Yeah well, news travels fast."  
"So were you burnt to a crisp? If so, the Healers deserve a big raise for their extraordinary skills."  
"Just the legs this go-round. Thankfully the blokes I've been training were smart enough to put me out before the flames got much higher." Harry said.

Draco crossed his legs at the ankle, making Harry all but crane his neck to try to catch a glimpse of an accidental sock exposer.  
"Sounds like you've had a busy day, burning off chunks of yourself and all. I on the other hand have spent millions in other people's money, remain devastatingly handsome and not cooked well-done, and still have the strength to bring soup to the frail."

Harry huffed and blew the hair out of his eyes. "Half a bowl of tomato is hardly anything to boast about. And you didn't even bring any croutons, crackers, toast- nothing. "  
"You'll live." Draco drawled, studying his nails.  
"But I'm weak, I need the croutons to fortify me." Harry whined, picking at fuzz on the blanket.

Draco's undoubtedly snide comeback was interrupted by a knock on the door and the Healer that breezed in. "Hello again Mr. Potter, doing better?" Not waiting for an answer, the older man went to work casting diagnostic spells on Harry.  
"Can I leave anytime soon?" Harry begged.  
"Yes he needs to hurry home to make croutons and three different types of toast points." Draco said  
Harry narrowed his eyes and sat up. "Don't listen to him, Healer Simmons. He's just jealous he can't put stock, and make a killing, in my delicious garlic and rosemary croutons. Which go great with tomato soup."

Healer Simmons nodded absently and peeked at Harry's legs. "A bland soup or broth would do you some good. I'll have a mediwitch bring some up."  
Draco snorted. "Bland being the key word. Hot tomato juice and pieces of bread, very delicious. Why can't you have a curry from a shady vendor like the rest of us?"

"I'll make my own damn curry and save myself from a night bent over the toilet! Curry from a street vendor, really Draco?"  
The doctor glanced up. "Are you having digestive issues ?"  
Draco laughed loudly, leaning back in his seat from the effort. When Harry turned to scowl at him, he noticed the smallest of crow's feet around Draco's eyes and the flash of embarrassed anger melted. Something about seeing that little flaw, that mark of age and maturity made his heart jump happily.

"No, just a pain in the ass." Harry said, jerking his head in Draco's direction. "So, released soon?"  
"Tomorrow after breakfast most likely. Now now, you had some intensive burns to both legs and upper thighs from a spell mostly unknown to us. Though you're lucky that our typical salves and spells have worked so far, we would like to keep you overnight for observation." the Healer scowled, all but wagging a finger in Harry's face.

Harry sighed and fidgeted unhappily.  
Draco patted Harry's forearm, fingers warm and dry against Harry's chilled skin. "Don't fret, the bread will have a chance to grow staler. That's good right?"  
His touch still lingered, light and heavy as steel against his arm. Harry unglued his tongue from the roof of his mouth and agreed, mumbled something about textures of bread.

Draco let his hand slip away, but not far, grasping the bed rails between them. Harry swore he could feel warmth radiating from Draco's pale hand.

The Healer left, not before letting Draco know he needed testing for anemia. Harry promised him a dinner of liver, though he never cooked liver in his life.

He left the hospital the next morning with Hermione by his side and his legs tingling under his baggy sweatpants.  
They Flooed to Grimmauld Place, Hermione immediately plopping him down on the sofa as soon as he stepped out the fireplace.

He watched as she steeped tea and cut up fruit for a simple fruit salad, though he kept an ear out for any incoming owls.  
Draco stayed nearly four hours with him yesterday, buying frozen yogurts and reading aloud from the copy of _Witch Weekly _he found in the nightstand.

Harry learned a few things yesterday, besides that the Stunning spell had a few kinks in it yet.  
He learned that 's cafeteria makes a pretty good raspberry frozen yogurt, that he would get a date easier if he wore bold colored dress-robes, and that he was starting to like Malfoy. A lot.

He was still the arrogant jackass Harry went to school with, just a little less rough around the edges. Less mean, more sarcastic wit.  
It was the crow's feet, Harry thought. Draco looked pretty much the same as his Hogwarts days, except for the crow's feet. Those little wrinkles just did something to him.

Hermione sat down by his feet, the tray of food and tea floating in front of them. He accepted the little of bowl of fruit, tucking into it gratefully. Hospital food was definitely not going to be missed.  
Though he _would_ have drizzled the fruit with a little honey, a squeeze of lemon and some fresh mint to bring it all together, the fruit was refreshing.

"Critiquing my fruit?" asked an amused Hermione.  
"Habit." Harry said, taking a burning gulp of tea.  
Hermione slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her, rubbing her swollen heel absently. "As is watching for the post?"  
"Er, I'm waiting for my replacement preserves from Molly."  
Hermione pursed her lips and studied her tea. "Really? Preserves?"  
Harry stuffed his mouth before answering. "Yes. And maybe an owl from Draco."

Hermione smiled smugly and topped off her mug. "Aaah. I thought I saw him at the hospital yesterday, but I was in a hurry to run home and kill Ron."  
Harry smiled, swallowing a lump of orange. "So is Ron still among the living?"  
"Barely. I bought him the simplest of mobile phones and I'm forcing him to a beginners lesson tonight. But more on your visit with Draco!"  
Harry leaned back, keeping the window above Hermione's head visible. "It went well, good. He brought soup."

"Sounds like a real party. "Hermione deadpanned.  
Harry nudged her good-naturedly with his foot. "It was nice that he came. It meant a lot."  
Harry saw the romantic in Hermione with her soft smile and the tilt of her head. He blushed, and she gave a delighted laugh. "Oh Harry."

"Don't make it into more than it is!"  
Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Wouldn't think of it. So you like him huh?"  
Harry nodded confidently. "Yeah, I like him."  
"Come on Harry, do better than that! What do you like about him?" Hermione asked eagerly.  
"He's funny, he's always making these smart ass jokes that crack me up." Harry smiled. Hermione shared his smile but remained quiet, willing him to go on.

"He's real, he doesn't say what he thinks I want to hear. Then again, did he ever?" Harry continued. "I know we have this history, and we haven't really talked about any of it, but I'm ok with that. For now. It'll come up when it comes up, you know? Bit by bit."  
"It doesn't hurt things that he's good looking too." added Hermione.

He thought about how Draco's arms strained against the snug fitting shirts he was so fond of. How his long legs ate through a room, how he _owned _the room with his elegant gait and sharp eyes.  
And his lips, so quick to throw a sneer or a sly smile his way. Harry often found himself wondering if they were as soft they looked.

"Yeah, doesn't hurt anything." Harry said, clearing his throat.  
Hermione patted his knee and stood up with a groan. "Well if my option is worth anything, I think the feeling is mutual. I don't think Malfoy would just drop by bearing soup for many people."  
Harry considered himself lucky.

After Hermione left, Harry took a very long and very cautious bath.  
He made tea. Read. Did all he could to try to distract himself from the lack of owls visiting his house.  
He sat at his kitchen island, legs propped up on the other stool and his palms slicked with the burn ointment he was given by Healer Simmons.  
Tentatively, Harry rubbed the cream over the tight pink burns. The burns already looked weeks old, the skin taunt and puckered like scars.  
Hands greasy, Harry cupped his tea mug with his wrists and took a drink.  
"How pitiful."

Undeterred, Harry sat his tea down carefully before turning around slowly. He schooled his face blank, though his heartbeat quickened. "You normally just waltz into a person's kitchen?"  
Draco didn't answer right away, though he did pour himself a glass of wine. "It's easy when I'm still keyed into your Floo. Or do you just keep it wide open, hoping for visitors?"  
Harry scowled and wiped the rest of the cream on his legs. On his bare legs. It hit him that he was nearly nude, dressed only in loose boxers and a thin undershirt.  
Harry fought back a blush.

Draco on the other hand seemed perfectly at ease, back against the kitchen sink as he flipped idly through a nearby cookbook.  
It was frustrating that he was always so cool, so poised while Harry felt like a bumbling idiot.  
As if on cue, Draco swirled his wine and took a tiny sip, flipped on to desserts.  
Harry sulked into his tea, watching Draco over the chipped rim.

"Can you make this?" Draco asked suddenly, thrusting the cookbook under Harry's nose.  
It was a two page recipe for a chocolate tart, complete with a black cherry reduction.  
"I'm not much of a baker. Too much like potions I guess, everything has to be just so or it turns into a disgusting mess "  
"I'm amazing at potions." Draco stated, eyeing the page with renewed appreciation.

Harry sat the mug down and walked past Draco into his well-stocked pantry without a word.  
"Vanilla, sugar, flour, baking powder." Draco called out, running a long finger down the page.

Soon, Draco was surrounded by all of the ingredients found in a small bakery. He had the sleeves of his pinstriped navy shirt rolled up to his elbows and Harry's favorite apron tied neatly behind him.  
Harry watched from his perch on the stool, reading aloud from the recipe and adding unheeded advice.

Draco's potion skills did shine through, Harry noticed. He measured out flour and sugar with a keen eye, dumping them just so into the mixing bowl. He was a careful cook, very precise and steady as he lined the ramekins with dough and the chocolate filling.

The pastry baking, Draco started on the reduction. Strawberries, as Harry didn't have cherries, pats of butter, brown sugar, cinnamon filling the air with its sweetness. Draco let out a whoop when he added the wine, the fire dancing in his eyes. "So dramatic!" he exclaimed.

Giving the sauce a stir, he turned down the heat and refilled his glass. Draco took a sample, blowing on it before taking a small taste. "Maybe I should add more wine…"  
Draco had chocolate smeared on the bubbling caldrons printed on the apron, a gob of flour on the blurred tattoo that marred his forearm, his cheeks flushed from excitement and wine.

Harry could have blamed it on the heat of the stove, the overhead lights beating down on him. Or maybe it was the dregs of the pain potion in his system mixing badly with the wine.

But it wasn't.

Draco held out the spoon for Harry to taste. "Any good?" he asked, voice low.  
Leaning forward, Harry let Draco feed him. Eyes never leaving Draco's, Harry ate slowly. As Harry ate Draco licked his lips, tip of his pink tongue wetting his bottom lip quicker than a flash.  
Harry swallowed thickly. Too much cinnamon, a little burnt. "Perfect."

Draco dropped the spoon and it protested with a loud clang against the countertop.  
He nearly leapt over the counter, cupping the back of Harry's neck and pulling him closer. Steel eyes determined, he crushed his lips against Harry's, not allowing a chance for protest.  
They kissed hungrily, Harry delighted to finally confirm that Draco's wine tinted lips were even softer than they looked.

Draco traced the lines of Harry's lip with his tongue, teasing him with nips by sharp teeth. His hair slipped through Harry's fingers like corn silk, Harry tugged on the ends.  
Harry pulled back, breathless and just a bit shaky. He grabbed his nearby wand and flicked it towards the stove.  
"Your tart is burning."

Draco smiled and used his own wand to banish away the smoke that was slowly filling the room.  
"So it is." he said simply. He kissed Harry again, more slowly, taking the time to explore Harry's mouth.  
When he pulled back, Draco's eyes sparkled. Harry grinned into them and pulled the pastry out of the oven with a pointed look and a wave of his hand.

"Nice." Draco appreciated.  
He was still inches away from Harry's face, breath warm against Harry's cheek. He watched as awkwardness began to take over Harry, the blush that crept up his neck, his teeth worrying his bottom lip.

So Draco pulled back, planting his feet firmly on the kitchen floor. He was reminded of potions again. Always have a careful hand, though he chose to ignore that his own were a bit unsteady.  
"How about we see what the damage is to that tart?" Draco asked. He turned around, missing the flash of annoyance in Harry's green eyes.

The evening went fast after their kiss- Draco scarfing down the burnt dessert while Harry mashed his into pudding.  
He offered to help clean up, tossing the soiled apron on the vacant barstool.  
Harry waved him off, and after mulling around for a second longer, Draco was gone, leaving Harry with a kiss to the cheek and a destroyed kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

After his release from the hospital, Harry was given the rest of the week off.  
He made vats of stock, caught up on paperwork, babied his tiny herb garden- anything to distract himself from Draco's lips and his fleeing head.

It was worse for Harry during the night. Lying awake, he would stare at the dark ceiling above and it would be too much. Under the cover of night, he would slip his hand into his boxers and stroke himself to thoughts of Draco.

The kiss was amazing, so why did Draco bolt?  
He still owled Harry daily, always with the usual boasting of money exchanged or how tacky someone's shoes were, mixed in with a streak of the realness of Draco that Harry had come to appreciate.

Their kiss went unmentioned, though he did whine that the tart gave him heartburn.  
Harry was embarrassed.  
He thought he was doing such a great job with going with the flow of things, but maybe somethings just weren't meant to be explored.

He thought maybe Draco felt that the kiss was just a fluke to be ignored and hopefully forgotten, leaving just their friendship.  
But Harry didn't.

He wanted to explore every inch of Draco, he wanted to learn every angle of his lean body, wanted to know what secret spots would drive the blonde crazy.  
But it wasn't just Draco's body Harry desired, he wanted inside of that brilliant head too. He wanted to learn the story behind the crescent shaped scar above his eyebrow, he wanted to know what amazing places he vacationed as a kid.

And damnit, Harry wanted to see Draco's socks.

So to take his mind off of things, Harry started planning a party. He did it under the guise of a last hurrah for Hermione and Ron before the baby came but mostly it was to throw his energy into something non-Draco related.  
That was until he invited Draco. He couldn't stop himself, he wanted Draco there.

He was surprised when Draco accepted, Harry figured that he wouldn't take well to being tossed into the lion's den, so to speak. Harry was more surprised when Draco started helping with the planning of the party itself.

Draco would meet up with Harry after getting off of work and they would prowl Diagon Alley together, hunting down a certain port wine or thick pillar candles.  
It was a Saturday and they were out again, this time giving Harry's beloved butcher a visit. He ordered pork tenderloins as their main dish, thinking they would pair nicely with herbs from his now thriving garden. Maybe a nice arugula salad for a side, some blood orange segments, a sprinkling of feta…

"So are you going to help me cook all of this?" Harry asked.  
They were back at Grimmauld Place, the scarred kitchen table laden with shopping bags. Draco was rummaging through the bags, studying every other thing he unpacked. "Not unless lending you a house elf counts. How many people are you cooking for exactly?"  
"A dozen, maybe more. Oh Mr. Fresco threw in some bacon, bless him." Harry exclaimed happily, holding up the package.  
"A dozen Weasleys? Good God." Draco said, opening a bag of crisps. Harry rolled his eyes and snagged the bag out of Draco's hands. "Mostly Weasleys, that's true enough." He said, crunching into a chip.

He named them off on his fingers, falling off when he came to Ginny.  
Draco sucked salt off his finger, watching Harry closely. "Well? Did you invite her?"  
"God no." Harry said "It's too soon."  
Draco raised an eyebrow and shook his head silently, returning to the bags of groceries.  
"Why would I?" Harry continued. "We've only just broken up and it would be awkward, right?"

Draco smiled. "Of course. She would make snippy comments about your food all night, or how the house was so much cleaner when she was here. You'll ignore her, but the tension would get to everyone before dessert was over."  
Harry closed the crisps bag slowly. "Right then. But she didn't live here you know, certainly didn't clean."  
Laughing quietly, Draco buried his face into a fragrant bunch of thyme. "Yes, because that really matters now."  
Harry smiled and rubbed a dropped sprig between his fingers. "Guess not."

Draco had a knack for decorating, though it didn't surprise Harry.  
He arrived hours before the party was to start, stepping out of the Floo with colorful bolts of fabric thrown over his shoulder. Harry didn't ask, he just kept Draco supplied with plenty of tea and Spellotape.

Grimmauld Place transformed before his eyes, when they weren't focused on the range or cutting board.  
The Ginny inflected burn on the table was covered with a lovely shimmering lavender cloth, in the center the candles they hunted down the day before flickered merrily in hurricane glasses.

In the living room, gone were Harry's stacks of books and magazines, in their place fresh flowers and pictures of Harry, Ron, and Hermione in gleaming frames.  
With the delicious smells from the kitchen and Draco's touches, the house felt warm and inviting.

"This place looks amazing! You're making Kreacher look bad." Harry exclaimed.  
Draco fluffed a pillow before crashing down onto the couch. "Only a bit of fabric and flowers, but I'll take the thanks all the same."  
"As if you ever turned down thanks." Harry said warmly.

He picked up a picture of him and the happy couple on their wedding day. Ron beamed up at him, his arm tight against Hermione's waist. Even in the photo, Harry could see the love written on both of his friends faces. He couldn't help but wonder- would he ever feel love that strongly for someone?  
Feeling Draco's eyes on him, Harry set down the picture and plastered on a smile. "Don't get lazy on me yet. Come help me finish up in the kitchen before anyone shows."  
Draco grumbled, but rose dutifully. "Now I'm really starting to feel like a house elf."  
Harry handed Draco the cauldron apron. "Don't let Hermione hear you say that."

After it was all over, Harry could freely admit that he had been a bit nervous about Draco's presence at the party.  
There were a lot of double takes as his friends began to trickle in, but Harry thought it a credit to their friendships that no one said anything.  
Things were a bit stiff at first, when the Weasley men began to filter through. Harry had to bite back many laughs when Ron stared daggers at Draco over stuffed mushrooms.

Harry though Draco might have gained a tiny bit of respect in Ron's eyes when he turned down the last one.  
Dinner was easier, as they usually were in Harry's house, his pork momentarily stealing Hermione's spotlight.  
Good food and wine will always bring people together, and hadn't failed yet.

Harry watched as Draco gave decorating tips to Hermione, talked money with Fred and George, he even listened to Luna's rambles on a new breed of Whackspurts.  
It wasn't the loudest or the most boisterous party he had even thrown, but it was certainly one Harry would remember.

After the last slice of tenderloin was gone, after everyone had left for home, Draco stayed.  
He lit a fire and made himself comfortable on the couch. "I'm going to gain so much weight if I keep hanging around you."  
Harry handed him a glass of wine and sat down. "Like your diet before was so healthy. Tell me, do you still eat those awful dinners?"  
Draco sipped his wine and helped himself to a slice of bruschetta that somehow escaped. "I do, but thanks to you I've noticed some flaws with them."

Harry laughed and leaned his head back, drowsily glazing into the fire. "Trust me, they were there before. So tell me the story of your enlightenment."

Brushing off his hands, Draco tossed his arm across the couch's back.  
"There I was, after a grueling day of dealing with both a client's bad breath and a paper cut, when I realized I was starving to death. So I hurry home and whip up a trusty DinnerQuik, pesto ravioli it was. And it was just…disappointing. It was terribly lumpy and the pasta was mushy. All I could think was how much better you could have made it."

Touched, Harry couldn't resist a smug smile. "I'll make you some tomorrow."  
Draco toasted him with his wine glass before draining it. "Figured if I threw you a compliment you would."  
He sat up with a groan to set down his empty glass, and when he flopped back down Harry swore he was a bit closer.

Harry turned ever so slightly to study Draco's profile instead of the fire. His eyes were heavy from drink and ample amounts of food, but he seemed content with sitting by the fire.  
"Tired?" Harry asked softly, dreading the answer. He knew it was late, knew that he himself was starting to long for bed, but he didn't want Draco to leave. Not yet.

Draco turned to face Harry head on. "Getting there." He admitted. Instead of dragging himself off the couch, Draco boldly scooted closer to Harry.  
Harry didn't wait, didn't need any further invitation. Again his hand met Draco's soft cheek, his eyes never leaving Draco's silver. Gave him plenty of time to bolt, Harry thought as their lips met for a second time.

But Draco stayed on, kissing Harry slowly, taking his time to taste and nibble Harry's lips.  
Harry relaxed under his attention, parting his lips to Draco's seeking tongue. He indulged himself in a handful of Draco's silken hair, let a low moan slip when Draco brushed cool lips along his jaw.  
Draco's lips demanded reaction, and Harry gave as Draco sampled the dips and hollows of Harry's neck. Harry yipped when Draco bit down harder, groaned when he felt Draco smile against the bruise.

Draco dragged his lips back to Harry's and eased him backwards with a push to the shoulder. All too willing, Harry fell against pillows and let Draco hover above him. He pulled back a breath away from Draco's lips before he could start anything. "You ok with this?"  
Draco arched a brow. "I should be asking you that. I'm perfectly ok with this."  
To emphasize his point, Draco let his hips dip, brushing his erection against Harry's.

Harry screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, feeling the blood rush in his veins and go straight to his dick. When he opened his eyes, Draco was smiling down at him like the cat that got the canary.  
Harry wanted to scowl, instead he yanked Draco down for a fierce kiss. "For God's sake Draco, if you aren't ok with this don't tell me now."  
Draco grinned again, a flash of white teeth and cockiness before making quick work of Harry's shirt.  
"My oh my Potter." He purred admiringly, running his pale hands over Harry's toned chest. He tweaked a nipple and laughed at Harry's squirming, bending forward to tease it erect with his tongue.

Harry arched off the sofa, cock digging into Draco's hip painfully.  
"Like that did you?" Draco asked. He lapped at the other until Harry was panting above him.  
Harry tried to scowl, but his body refused to let him. Draco took his time, licking and kissing his way to dark trail of hair just below Harry's bellybutton in ways Harry had never felt. He hooked a finger into the waistband of Harry's jeans. "Last chance to escape Potter."  
"You wish." Harry groaned

Draco shed his shirt and tossed it over his shoulder before shimming out of his pants as well. Harry followed suit and wiggled out of his suddenly too tight jeans.  
Draco didn't waste more time, he yanked Harry's boxers down to his ankles and gave his cock a few brutal pulls. Withering below him, Harry began to curse Draco's name with feverish longing.  
"That's right, keep saying my name." Draco smirked, and took Harry into his mouth.

Harry's eyes blurred, the edges of the room took on a sparkling white flare.  
Never had he had a blowjob like the spectacle Draco was doing.  
With Ginny, she had to be drunk and ever then it was nothing more than a few halfhearted flicks of her tongue.  
But Draco…****

He was enjoying sucking Harry off, Harry could tell. His hot month molded around his dick, his tongue was everywhere, lapped at every vein as if to memorize.  
Harry risked a look down and nearly came at the sight.

Draco's shock of white hair bobbed around his dick, his smoky eyes open and studying Harry's face. Not breaking eye contact, Draco pulled back and licked Harry slowly from root to tip.  
Impossibility hard, Harry watched until his eyes burned and his dick throbbed with the want of release.  
He licked his dry lips as Draco blew a warm breath over his overly sensitive head.

That was it for Harry. With a strangled gasp, Harry arched off the couch and came hard into Draco's waiting mouth, his hands finding their way back to Draco's mussed hair.  
Breathless, he fell back onto the couch, pulling Draco down with him. He was comfortably warm and sated. He could have stayed there the rest of the night, but Draco had other ideas.

Ignoring Harry's complaints, Draco pulled Harry up and off the couch. "No sleeping, I'm not done with you yet. "  
Harry's heart jumped to his throat as Draco led him up the rickety stairs. If he saw stars from Draco's blowjob skills, Harry knew that only very, very good things could be had in the bedroom. But he had to call upon a lot of his Gryffindor courage to keep walking. He instinctively opened the nondescript wooden door that guarded his bedroom in what he hoped was a normal, I'm ready for some gay sex, manner.

"Good God Harry, you act as if I'm walking you to your death."Draco remarked. He left Harry by the doorway, giving Harry an excellent view of his pert ass as Draco settled on the bed.  
On Harry's bed. On the bed he had only slept with women on, one woman to be precise.

Just as the tiniest bit of self-doubt started to wash over Draco, Harry started walking towards him, green eyes darken to the color of moss.  
Draco wanted to throw his head back and laugh, to jump off the bed and scoop Harry up, kiss-lick-fuck away those nerves.  
But instead, he let Harry come to him, let Harry run those rough hands over his legs until gooseflesh broke out on his arms.

"Such a tease." Draco joked. Harry raked his fingers through the scattering of blonde curls surrounding his dick, pulling with just enough force to make Draco hiss.  
Harry nestled himself between Draco's splayed legs, wrapping a steady hand around Draco's dick. He was bigger than he was, Harry noticed, but instead of any resentment Harry just felt excitement.  
Harry leaned forward to capture Draco's parted lips, trying out the wrist flick that Draco used on him.

Draco gasped into their kiss and opened his legs wider, trusting his hips up.  
Harry braced his hands against Draco's sharp hips, but didn't push him down. He took Draco deep, ignoring the complaints from his gag-reflex. He sucked hard; cheeks hollowed, his tongue sweeping circles over Draco's slit.  
The taste of Draco's come, salty-sweet-right, filled his mouth with a quick sputter from Draco. Harry swallowed most, but let the rest trickle out the corners of his mouth. Draco's hands unclenched the blanket and pulled Harry up.

He flopped down beside Draco, wiping his mouth and breathing heavy.  
Draco gave a little laugh, eyes closed and hands tucked neatly under his head.  
"I can't believe Harry Potter just sucked me off."  
Harry copied Draco's pose, though he kept his eyes open and fixed on Draco.  
"Neither can Harry Potter."

Draco snorted then gave a groan. "I should get going. Work and all tomorrow."  
Harry watched Draco's eyes move behind pale lids, the steady rise and fall of his chest. "Work for me too, my first day back."  
Draco gave a tiny nod, barely a lift of his head. "How are your legs?" he asked quietly.  
Harry smiled, it was the first time Draco had asked. "Fine, a few scars left over. I'm surprised you didn't get an eye full while you were down there."  
"Was busy looking at other things." Draco said around a yawn.  
Harry flashed an unseen grin and quietly summoned a blanket.

"I'll get up in a minute." Draco said the second the blanket touched his bare legs.  
Harry decided not to point out that he was already pulling the blanket up to his chin.  
"Of course, take your time." Harry offered, grabbing a pillow.

He watched as Draco took a deep breath and curled a hair closer towards him.  
"How did you get that scar?" he asked, fingers ghosting above Draco's eyebrow.  
Silence answered. Harry was started to slowly steal the blanket back from Draco when he answered.  
"_Crucio_. Fell on glass."  
It was terrible and it raised more questions, but it was one more thing Harry knew about Draco.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco slept like the dead, but he was a terrible blanket thief.

While he slept with his body clutched around the thick blanket, Harry scowled and stumbled around the room trying to find pajama pants to cover his ass.

At dawn Draco was up, and so was Harry, though unwillingly so. The moment the bedsprings bounced, his eyes came unglued.  
He watched as Draco unearthed himself from his blanket nest and sat up, blond hair messy and falling into his eyes.  
"This mattress is lumpy." Draco said thickly, voice rough from sleep.

Harry gave a snort and rubbed his hand over the stubbed cheek that wasn't pressed into his pillow. He blindly fished around for his glasses and grunted his thanks with Draco handed them over.  
"What is this, _The Princess and the Pea?_ And some people start the day with 'good morning' you know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Good morning." He sneered, though without heat. Flinging aside the covers, he stood up and winced at the bite of cold hardwood floors on his feet. "Maybe invest in a few rugs?"  
"I have rugs." Harry groaned, sitting up against the headboard. He watched through grainy eyes as Draco flung his lanky arms skyward and stretched, eyes screwed closed and skin pulled taunt against his scarred ribs.

In the grey morning light, Harry took notice of Draco's other scars. A small starburst on his shoulder, a thick robe on the back of his leg- the thin wispy ones across his chest that Harry knew were from his own wand.  
The blurry skull and serpent that would forever make its home on Draco's forearm.  
More stories, more terrifyingly awful stories.

Harry gnawed at his lip as Draco walked onwards to the bathroom.  
There was so much he still didn't know about Draco. It was bone deep, this need to know every detail about the man in his shower.  
Harry thought idly this must be that 'thirst for knowledge' Hermione credited herself with.

The smell of his soap, "Outdoor Freshness", wafted in on the chilly air.  
He took a huge lungful; it calmed him, that piece of familiarity on Draco. There isn't a war going on, Harry reminded himself, he didn't have to learn even detail about Draco just yet.

He thought of the nights he would quiz Ginny. '_What's your favorite color? What's your favorite flavor of ice cream'?_  
She would cooperate until the questions strayed from unsafe topics. _'Do you think you would be able to perform the Killing Curse?'' Would you be able to leave me behind?'_  
And Draco didn't know the details around his scars, Harry reminded himself again. They knew each other, spent years hating each other, but it was still all new. And Harry could handle that, wanted too.  
Steady now, Harry summoned his robe and set off to make tea.

Ten hours later, he was home again.  
After having a quick breakfast of tea and fruit with Draco, Harry indulged in a long shower and a leisurely wank before heading off to work. Where he was surprised with a cake shaped like one of his test dummies from some of his more cheeky students.  
Any day with cake was always a good one though.

They ate while Harry gave a brief lesson on Healing charms and how to properly produce a stream of water.  
He arrived home tired, but with leftover cake happily in hand.  
He was happier still when he was greeted by Draco sipping tea and reading through a sheaf of papers in his kitchen.

Draco shuffled his papers into a neat stack and set them aside when Harry walked into the brightly lit kitchen. He pounced on the cellophane wrapped cake, pausing only to shutter at the pasty grey frosting.  
He picked at crumbs as Harry poured his own cup of tea and sat down besides Draco, stretching gratefully.  
"The people of DinnerQuiks want to try out new recipes." Draco said, adding a splash of hot water to his cup. He glanced at Harry to gauge his reaction, or lack thereof.

Harry laughed and flipped open the day's copy of The Quibbler that waited on the table. "Good. Now just get a new chef and a new name and maybe they might be worth something."  
Getting straight to the point, Draco pulled the magazine out of Harry's hands. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Be their outside consultant!"

Harry gave a scoff and pulled his magazine back. "What? You're crazy Malfoy. I already have a job."  
"It wouldn't be full time, just a few hours on the weekend to show the chefs how to make food edible."  
Rolling his eyes, Harry laughed. "I teach people for a living."  
Draco scowled. "Come on Harry. You're an amazing cook and a decent enough teacher."  
Draco smirked at the Harry's squinted eyes. "Your name won't be plastered on every box, I promise."

Grumbling, Harry closed the article on 'Ten Uses for Gnome Dandruff' to lean back in the wooden chair. "So all I would have to do is go in with some recipes, and teach them to whatever poor soul is doing the cooking?"  
Draco nodded, fringe falling into his eyes. "That's pretty much it Potter. You'll get paid to mess up a fully equipped kitchen, boss some lackeys around, then you'll get to see your creations right next to the frozen burritos."

Harry tugged on the fallen sprig of hair and kissed Draco soundly. "Well when you put it like that. I guess I'll give it a go."  
The thought of working and creating dishes in a professional kitchen did appeal to Harry.  
Working with the pantry alone would be worth it, but it was all just an afterthought to 'making Draco smile'.

Draco beamed, a show of perfectly straight white teeth. "Brilliant. Keep Saturday morning free then."  
Standing, Harry froze in his stride to the refrigerator. "You already told them I said yes?"  
"Well of course. I knew you would." Draco drawled, eyebrow arched.  
Harry shook his head. "Just for that, I'm cooking eggplant tonight."  
Draco winced and opened Harry's forgotten magazine. "That seems a bit cruel."  
Harry shrugged his broad shoulders. "Maybe next time ask first."  
Head deep in the fridge, he pulled out bulbous eggplants and an earthen bowl full of fresh green beans.

Draco eyed the vegetables over the top of magazine with distaste. "Eggplant and green beans in the same meal? Really Potter, isn't that a bit…Slytherin?"  
Harry smiled and set the green beans to wash and snap their selves.  
"Maybe so, but it's the Gryffindor in me that will make them delicious."

Nearly an hour and one sparkling plate later, Draco had to agree that Harry's newly deemed 'Slytherin Green Curry' was the best of both worlds. Spicy and savory, Draco ate his fill while praising Harry greatly. Harry would scoff and accuse Draco of sucking up, but he couldn't help the smug smile that was etched on his face.  
Watching Draco eat, and thoroughly enjoy a dish Harry made, a previous 'disgusting' vegetable even, made him glow.  
All the praise in the world couldn't match Draco mowing down Harry's eggplant.

Soon after dinner, Draco Flooed back to his apartment.  
He left Harry with yet another kiss in the kitchen, but this time around Harry didn't question Draco's want afterwards.  
The passion was there as before, a fire that flicked and teased, begged to scorch them both. But Draco remained in control, much to Harry's displeasure.  
He kissed Harry slowly, confidently, with just enough force to keep Harry on edge. Just when Harry was starting to get breathless, Draco pulled back.  
Harry frowned at him. "Now who is being a bit harsh?"

Draco kept his cocky smirk in place and fixed the collar on Harry's rumbled work shirt. "I'll be back. If I stay away from my apartment to long, my house elf tattles to Mother."  
Harry laughed loudly at the sheer 'Draco-ness' of it all.

He kissed Draco again, a messy smashing together of their lips. "Far be it from me to get you in trouble! Go home, but come back."  
Draco quirked a delicate brow at him, hands still busy brushing wrinkles from Harry's shirt.  
"You make me laugh." Harry explained simply. He didn't want to end such a night on an emotionally heavy note.

Besides that, Draco's brushes had turned to long caresses against his chest and back and thinking was getting hard.  
Draco's smile stretched just a bit and his hands stilled, both sprayed against Harry's lower back. He leaned in close, filling the small space between them to bury his head in Harry's neck. "You make me smile."  
He kissed right along Harry's jumping vein, and squeezed Harry tight against him for a fraction of a second.  
He left without another word, but it screamed volumes to Harry.

The days that followed Harry was sure that he had laughed more than he had in years. Draco's quick and brutal wit over mundane events was a much-welcomed addition to his daily life.  
He would tell stories about clients that day, or how his Mother had owled him yet another care package of biscuits and Honeydukes chocolate. "It's like being at school again." He complained, biting into a chocolate frog.

While he wasn't always sitting at the kitchen table when Harry arrived home, Draco always made it for dinner.  
They laughed over steak and kidney pie, snogged over forgotten pad Thai, bickered over how to properly dress fish and chips.  
Harry's kitchen was where they always seemed to be. Even when Draco slept over, they found themselves in the kitchen more often than not.

With Saturday looming ahead, Harry's time cooking doubled. Draco would sit and balance out ledgers and make important sounding phone calls, but with Harry always nearby.  
Harry would thrust sample bites of a sausage roll or lamb and potato stew over to Draco's perch, demanding an honest answer. What else would Draco give?  
Less sauce, more of 'that green woodsy herb'.  
He carefully froze the massive amount of leftovers to bring over to Hermione and Ron before the baby was born.

Friday evening, Draco surprised Harry by lounging on the decades old velvet sofa in the living room.  
"Need a change of scenery?" , Harry asked, hanging up his cloak.  
Draco nodded and tapped his long fingers along the back of the sofa. "Exactly. Go shower and put on presentable clothes, I'm taking you out."  
Harry frowned and sat across from Draco on a smaller version of the dated sofa. "Out where?"

Draco huffed. "To eat, not to the guillotines! You've been cooking like a madman all week, take a break before tomorrow."  
Harry untied his heavy work boots and removed both them and his socks with a happy sigh. "Taking me anyplace good?"  
Draco sighed. "Do you really think that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would have trouble finding a table at a nice restaurant?"  
Harry scrunched his nose and stood with a stretch. "I guess you're right, even though it pains me to say so."

"The more you say it, the quicker you learn it. Like a mantra."  
Harry laughed and rustled Draco's hair as he walked by. "More like brainwashing. You coming with me?  
It was a brazen move on Harry's part, and he asked so with the beginnings of a blush staining his cheeks.  
Their 'sex life' so far had been very limited. A few blowjobs and a fantastic wakeup call handjob Draco gave Harry a day when he slept past dawn.

But full on, down and dirty sex was still missing from Harry's newfound love life. Harry was apprehensive, the thought of something as large as Draco's prick shoved up…there, made him wince and shift in his seat.  
That was until Draco would leave him breathless at a kiss, left him seeing stars with his mouth and tongue.

Draco wanted it. Harry could tell.  
The bastard was just waiting for Harry to beg, he was sure. Always planning, Harry reminded himself.  
So the look on Draco's face was priceless; Harry had to bite his cheek to keep in the laughter.

Draco lowered both eyebrows and shot off the couch in a hurry. "Any opportunity to play with my…hair, is always taken."  
Harry smiled to himself as he led the way to his bedroom, Draco following closely behind.  
Pausing at his bed, Harry tugged off his simple T-shirt and tossed it on the neatly made sheets. He ignored Draco's grumblings and quickly stripped down to his boxer briefs.  
He eyed Draco expectantly. "You shower fully clothed?"

Draco smiled slowly, eyes still roaming Harry's naked chest. "Always in a rush." He sighed, though he began to slowly unclasp his cuff links. Harry watched Draco's slender fingers deftly unfasten the fussy clasps, snickered when he placed them with the utmost care on Harry's wardrobe.  
"Hush you. They are a family heirloom." Draco laughed, draping his shirt beside his cuff links.

He slid out of dark trousers, folding them just so before setting them aside.  
Harry watched without gripe, grinning when Draco sat to remove his socks.  
Grey and white stripes.

Laughing, he walked away leaving Draco confused behind him. "What's so funny?" Draco asked, glancing down at his naked chest.  
In the bathroom, Harry chuckled as he started the water. After tossing his underwear on the tiled floor, he stepped into the steam.  
Another wizarding wonder, he thought-the hot water was always hot.

Draco joined him a second later, still glancing down at his self.  
Taking pity on him, Harry pecked Draco on the lips, letting the hot water wash over them.  
Draco returned the kiss gratefully and tangled his fingers in the damp curls at the base of Harry's neck.  
Harry sighed, opening his mouth just a bit to let his tongue tangle with Draco's. He ran his calloused fingers over Draco's thin chest, locked his knees when he felt Draco shutter ever so slightly.  
"You feel so good wet." Harry murmured huskily against Draco's lips.  
Draco laughed softly and tweaked Harry's nipple between two pale fingers. "Mhm. So do you."

Harry hissed below him, jumping forward as if he had been shocked.  
Draco swiped dripping hair from his eyes to watch Harry as he quickly replaced his fingers with his mouth, tugging Harry's nipple with sharp teeth. Harry let loose a string of curses and grabbed at the shower door.  
Draco kissed a trail to Harry's other nipple, twisting the small nub as he did its match.  
He slipped his hand down Harry's sopping leg, reveling at Harry's solid muscles- quivering.

Draco continued his assault on Harry's sensitive nipples, let his hand roam from Harry's leg to his now hard cock.  
Harry whimpered as Draco's still cool palm wrapped firmly around him, his lips moving back against his.  
"You want to continue this in the bedroom?", Draco asked, catching Harry's earlobe in his teeth.  
Harry groaned deeply and turned off the water in a flash. He turned back to a grinning Draco and crushed his lips against the blonde's, cupping his neck with his hand.

The kiss was raw- a show of the uneasiness that sex brought Harry, but more so the _want need desire_ that was consuming him.  
He wouldn't be satisfied with just Draco's mouth this time.  
Hurrying out of the shower, Harry grabbed a towel off the nearby rack to scrub at his hair. He offered Draco his free hand, which he took and didn't let go even after he was safely out the shower.  
"Shall we?" Draco asked, gesturing towards the bedroom.  
Harry squeezed Draco's hand and dropped his towel to the ground.  
"Well lets go." he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

No hesitation.

Draco laughed at Harry's eagerness and followed the wizard obediently.  
Taking a detour from the bed, Harry nicked his wand from his rumpled pants and spelled them both reasonably dry.  
"Best I can do right now." He said in apology.  
Oddly touched, Draco kissed Harry a bit softer as he led them both to fall back against the bed.  
"Lay back Harry." Draco all but whispered.

Harry eased back, eyelids fluttering shut and a small smile tugging at his mouth. He would do anything Draco asked him in that voice.  
Draco climbed on top of Harry, pressed his body tightly against Harry's ready one.  
His mouth claimed and conquered, kissing Harry until his lips were red and bruised, until his thoughts were nothing but _DracoDracoDraco_.

As Draco lapped and sucked at his neck, his hand languidly stroked Harry as if his dick was an afterthought.  
Harry ran both hands down Draco's damp back, kneaded his firm ass. Draco growled, growled! And Harry was more turned on than he ever had been in his life.

Draco must had sensed it- tasted it on his skin, felt the air charge around them.  
He ended his attack on Harry neck with a sharp bite and a flick of his tongue. Straddling Harry's hips, both men groaned when their painfully hard cocks brushed against each other.  
"_Accio_ wand." Draco called, hand reaching out expectantly. Harry raised an eyebrow.  
"Don't be impressed, it's the only bit of wandless magic I know now."

He cupped his hand over the wands tip and murmured a charm. Draco grinned at Harry. "I'll teach you that one."  
Taking his now lubed hand, Draco gave his own cock a few satisfying yanks before dropping his hand away by sheer force of will.  
"Relax." He said to them both.  
Draco traced his finger down Harry's length to the cleft of his nearly hidden ass. He licked parched lips and bent down awkwardly to catch Harry's before easing a trembling finger pass that hot ring.

Harry stilled and let out a shallow puff of air against Draco's lips.  
Draco whispered something and began to inch his finger deeper into Harry. Swearing illiterately, Harry squirmed under the intrusion. "Jesus Draco! What in the hell?!"  
Ignoring him, Draco pressed on and curled his finger just a tiny bit. Harry arched his back with a strangled gasp. "Holy fuck!"  
Draco smiled and swept a kissed across Harry's red stained cheek. "Worth a little pain, huh?"

He worked Harry expertly, slipped in a second finger with practiced ease, not stopped until Harry was trembling all over. Harry withered and moaned at every thrust and prod, hand braced against Draco's shoulder.  
Harry frowned at the sudden loss of pleasure when Draco slowly pulled the digits out of him. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch what Draco was planning next.

He nudged Harry's legs open wider and nestled between them confidently. Slowly, agonizingly slow, Draco guided the very tip of his cock into Harry.  
To his credit, Harry didn't exclaim or holler out this time.  
The pain was faint, but there- a dull throb as Draco pushed more of himself into Harry's tight body.

What took him by surprise was the _fullness_ he felt when Draco moved deep inside of him.  
This sex, sex with Draco, filled him to his core.  
Harry grabbed Draco's sweat drenched forearm and squeezed it tightly, falling back onto the bed with a muffled thump. He wanted, needed, to show Draco how he felt and his mouth wouldn't seem to form words.  
With Harry's body relaxed, Draco paused to prop Harry's heavy leg over his shoulder. He kissed Harry's strong calf, his knobby ankle. Draco pulled halfway out of Harry and glided back in, steel amongst silk.

"Oh God Draco." Harry called, arching his back for more. He clumsily pulled on Draco's tiny nipple, scratched his way down to his slit of a navel. Draco licked his lips and slapped Harry's ass lightly. "I've always figured you would like it rough Potter. I'll deffinantly remember that."  
Harry smirked and squeezed his muscles tightly around Draco cock. "Please do."

Draco found his rhythm after the first few awkward thrust, as did Harry. The raven-haired man stretched his legs open and arched his hips forward, giving Draco freedom to move around. Harry seemed to get the most pleasure from steady, deep strokes- hard quick jerks to his own trapped dick.  
He tugged at himself, forehead creased in concentration, dark eyebrows knitted together.

The room echoed their sounds. Their pants and grunts bounced off the dark walls, the wet slap of flesh against flesh rang in their ears.  
The air pulsated with magic, a crackling sharp energy that raised gooseflesh on Draco's arms and made him move faster.  
Harry yelped at the faster pace and locked his free leg in the crook of Draco's bent one. His hand was a mere blur between their bodies as Harry raced to finish.

Draco helped him along with a roll and dip of his hips, hot open mouth kisses along his leg.  
Draco watched through half lidded eyes as Harry came almost violently on his heaving chest, his body shuttering against Draco's cock buried inside him. The lights in the room went out without so much as a flicker as Harry lost control.  
Draco moaned in appreciation and dug his nails into Harry's leg, pounding into Harry brutally.  
Harry watched the platinum blonde blur that was Draco's head toss backwards as he came, filling Harry hotly and causing him to cry out.

Cursing, Draco let his fingers go lax and soppily kissed the marks he knew he left on Harry's leg. He pulled out of Harry gently and collapsed next to him.  
Harry turned to face Draco in the darkness, breath still coming in uneven puffs.  
Light from the streetlamp below filtered in through the window, making shadows jump across the darken walls.  
Harry ran his hand over Draco's shining hair. He traced the slight upturn of his nose, the soft pout of his lips. Harry trailed down his high cheekbone to rest against the curve of Draco's neck.

Draco smiled, a soft whisper of contentment, and rolled onto his side to face Harry. He pulled Harry closer and kissed him, eyes open and soft.  
Harry sighed into the kiss, breaking away to brush his lips against Draco's sharp jaw line. "That was amazing." he whispered into Draco's ear.

Draco drew in a deep breath. "Keep whispering into my ear and I'll start up the second act."  
Harry laughed and traced the shell of Draco's ear with the tip of his tongue. "I'll keep that in mind."  
Draco stiffened and swallowed a groan. "Deffinantly should have been in Slytherin."  
"If I could have gotten that from you every night, then I should have." Harry laughed. He stretched against Draco, wincing at the pull.  
"Sore already?" Draco asked, amused. "You need more practice."

"What I need is another shower. And dinner." Harry complained, linking his leg with Draco's.  
Draco laughed and wound a strand of Harry's dark hair around his finger. "That makes both of us. If you wouldn't have seduced me, we could have been halfway through dessert by now."  
Harry sat up with a groan and tousled his already deranged hair. "Dessert sounds fantastic. Come clean up with me and I promise I'll be good."

With a sigh, Draco sat up and pecked Harry on the shoulder. "Mhm, good sounds fine, but I'm keener on seeing how…bad you can act."  
Harry smiled and waved his hand through the air; the lights came to life so suddenly that Draco had to shield his eyes.  
"That's a huge turn on." Draco admitted as they walked to the bathroom yet again.  
Harry watched as Draco turned on the water for their shower, took his hand and climbed into the stall. "Good to know I turn you on so much." he joked.

Draco looked Harry over and smiled slowly, but remained quiet. Instead, he nudged Harry to turn around and face the wall. Filling his hand with Harry's shampoo, Draco attacked Harry's disheveled locks.  
"You being wet and soapy seem to turn me on too. Add that one to the list.", Draco said, sneaking a sudsy hand down to Harry's half harden dick.  
Harry smiled and leaned his head against Draco's shoulder.  
"Added." He sighed. Shampoo ran down his back as Draco turned him around and dropped to his knees.

For once, Harry was all too willing to miss dinner.


End file.
